Chapter Thirteen
After checking on the wounded and satisfied that they were improving despite the conditions they were all in, Ayla returned to Thranduil's tent. With a change of clothes and clean water to wash her face and hands with, Ayla felt refreshed. Tired but refreshed. She was dressed warmly in a gown and robe that matched Thranduil's, and her tangled hair combed and styled into a simple braid that hung over one shoulder. She and Thranduil were just about to enjoy some spiced wine when their quiet moment had been interrupted by a disheveled grey wizard marching into their tent.
Gandalf had ridden into the city with urgency and barged into Thranduil's tent where he forced a council with the Elvenking, Bard, and Ayla. "You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves." Thranduil and Bard exchanged looks while the wizard continued on his rant. "War is coming! The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You're all in mortal danger."
"What are you talking about?" Bard asked.
"I can see you know nothing of wizards." Thranduil said as he stood from his substitute throne, stepping to the small table in the middle of the tent space, refilling the goblets with wine and handing one to Bard. "They are like winter thunder on a wild wind rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm. But sometimes a storm is just a storm." He turned to look at Gandalf pointedly, seeing the irritated look on the wizard's face.
"Not this time." Gandalf insisted, and then turned to Ayla. "My Lady, have you not informed them?"
Thranduil and Bard looked to Ayla patiently while she folded her arms neatly below her breasts. "Orcs did attack us in Lake-town the same night Smaug destroyed it. And Legolas did mention seeing a pack of warg riders from the north. But I just assumed they were the same orcs that had been tailing Thorin and his company." Ayla said, "But what does any of that have to do with what's happening now?"
Gandalf's weathered fingers tightened around his staff with nervous energy. "Armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters. They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength." he said.
"Why show his hand now?" Thranduil asked, already growing tired of the wizard's company as he moved to stand beside Ayla, placing a hand to the small of her back.
"Because we started it. We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland." Gandalf said.
"I'm sorry…We started nothing." Ayla said in a clipped tone, her shoulders tensing up. "What brought us to this point was by circumstance, which, if I'm not mistaken, started with you."
"You have every right to be upset, My Lady. The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor." Gandalf said, leading the way out of the tent. Thranduil looked down at Ayla who then looked up at him, both sharing the skeptical look. He inclined his head, letting her out first before following with Bard bringing up the rear. "Azog the Defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control of the mountain. Not just for the treasure within but for where it stands, for its strategic position." They stopped just a dozen steps away from the tent to look out at the gates of Erebor. "This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north. If that fell kingdom should rise again…Rivendell, Lorien, the Shire…even Gondor itself will fall."
"These orc armies you speak of, Mithrandir, where are they?" Thranduil asked, still skeptical of the wizard's frantic warning.
"Are they coming from Gundabad?" Ayla asked, remembering that Legolas and Tauriel had gone up that way to investigate if the orcs that attacked them came from there.
Gandalf did not have an answer for them.
"Enough of this, we have more pressing matters to prepare for. Come, Ayla." Thranduil said, turning to return to his tent. Ayla looked at Gandalf, wanting to believe him but without proof she couldn't stand by his words. Not like when they were in Rivendell and he had shown them the Nazgul blade. This, now, was entirely different and Gandalf's claims were nothing more than words at the moment. Snow was now gently falling, steadily gaining speed and knowing the region, the snow will quickly become larger and heavier, blanketing everything in white.
"My Lady…" Gandalf began, his eyes pleading but Ayla shook her head and stepped closer to him.
"I don't know what you saw in Dol Guldur, but whatever it is now is not the time." she said, "The people from Lake-town are scared enough, don't break their fragile morale by scaring them further." She then turned away, going back into the tent where Bard had held open the flap, letting her in before following, dropping the flap behind him.
"What do we do now?" Bard asked, looking at the couple. He had thought earlier how striking they looked together in the pavilion when Thranduil had brought aid, and now, in matching clothes, they were beautiful beyond comprehension. "How do we know if what he says is true?"
"We don't," Ayla said, "And as much as I hate to admit, he's never been wrong."
"And yet there is no sign of this orc army." Thranduil said.
Bard shook his head before he turned and left, needing to check on his children.
"Ayla, earlier you mentioned Legolas chasing after orcs to the north. Is that where he has gone?" Thranduil asked.
"No, he went to Gundabad with Tauriel." Ayla said.
"And why would he go there?"
Ayla bit her bottom lip, "I, umm, may have told him to investigate?"
He gave her that hard glare she knew too well, and normally Ayla wouldn't be so intimidated, but because this time it had to do with Legolas…You're so dead, Ayla. she thought.
"Before you say anything, let me explain; Legolas said that the orcs that attacked us in Lake-town bore the mark from Gundabad." Ayla said, seeing that he was about to speak she quickly cut him off. "It was his idea in the first place I just…gave him a push? Wait, admitting that isn't helping me. But even if I were to say not to go he would have gone anyways. Your son is a bit of a late bloomer when it comes to his rebellious phase."
Thranduil turned around and walked back to his chair, taking a seat before resuming his glare at her. She exhaled loudly and rolled her eyes.
"Just say something already!" she said, his silence beginning to twist her stomach in knots.
"Sending my son there had better be worth the danger." he said, his tone eerily calm.
Oh crap.
"Yeah…let's hope."
xxxxx
Night fell upon them and torches were lit, the humans taking shelter in the decaying buildings while the injured lay in the tents to hide from the night's frigid chill and snowfall of winter. Ayla stood in Thranduil's tent with Bard and Gandalf once more, and clearly the wizard was at odds with the other men while Ayla found herself stuck in the middle, being pulled back and forth as she played referee.
"Since when has my council counted for so little? What do you think I'm trying to do?" Gandalf asked, his eyes going to Ayla who stood next to Thranduil, desperate to have at least her voice on his side.
"I think you're trying to save you dwarvish friends." Thranduil said from where he reclined casually in his seat, as Gandalf turned and smoked his pipe, puffing in agitation. "And I admire your loyalty to them. But it does not dissuade me from my course." he stood from his chair and approached the wizard as he looked at Gandalf's profile. "You started this, Mithrandir. You will forgive me if I finish it. Are the archers in position?" he asked as one of his soldiers stepped forward.
"Yes, My Lord." he said.
"Give the order. If anything moves on that mountain, kill it." The elf soldier nodded his head curtly before turning sharply and marching off to send his King's direct orders. "The dwarves are out of time." Gandalf looked to Ayla with desperation. "Do not waste your breath to persuade her, Mithrandir, Oakenshield has shown his true colors when he dared to harm her."
Ayla clicked her tongue in annoyance as she folded her arms in front of her. "I can speak for myself. The situation is no longer up for debate, Gandalf. I'm sorry."
"So then you would allow this war to happen? Allow your friends to die over some gold?" Gandalf asked, disappointed that Ayla was ready to sacrifice Thorin and his company. "How can you turn your back on them? You are the only one here who has known them the longest."
"Talking circles around each other and coming up with no solutions is wasting time. I've already tried to speak to Thorin. He is lost to the dragon sickness, and his men will not leave him out of loyalty. We're out of options." Ayla said.
"Bowman, do you agree with this?" Gandalf asked, going to Bard as he desperately searched the man's face. "Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of dwarves?"
"It will not come to that." Bard said with confidence, "This is a fight they cannot win."
"That won't stop them," said a fifth voice, as the four looked to the entrance of the tent to see Bilbo. "You think the dwarves will surrender? They won't. They will fight to the death to defend their own."
"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf said; glad to see the hobbit was safe and unharmed.
"If I'm not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards." said Thranduil, staring at Bilbo who stood awkwardly under his gaze.
"Hobbits are surprising that way." Ayla said, smiling at Bilbo while her strange headache returned. Was it because of Bilbo or did he have something on him that made her feel ill?
"Yes, sorry about that." Bilbo said, he then stepped forward to the table. "I came…to give you this." he placed a small bundle wrapped in cloth on the table and unwrapped it, revealing the magnificent jewel: the Arkenstone.
Thranduil rose from his seat, his eyes fixed upon the stone. "The heart of the mountain. The King's Jewel."
"And worth a King's ransom." said Bard as he and everyone looked to the hobbit. "How is this yours to give?"
"I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure." Bilbo said.
"Why would you do this? You owe us no loyalty." Bard said, still having trouble comprehending the hobbit's reason.
"I'm not doing it for you." Bilbo said with a shake of his head.
"Then who are you doing this for?" Ayla asked; trying to stay focused on the conversation while fighting the growing tension in her head.
"I know the dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult. They're suspicious and secretive with the worst manners you can possibly imagine. But they are also brave and kind…and loyal to a fault. And I've grown very fond of 'em. And I would save them if I can. Now, Thorin values this stone above all else." Bilbo said, hesitantly looking up at Ayla and remembering the scene of Thorin trying to choke her to death. Knowing that his words rang painfully true at the statement that the stone was more important than his friends, but Bilbo was determined to help Thorin return to the man he was. "In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you are owed. There will be no need for war."
Bard, Thranduil and Ayla all looked at each other. The men with skepticism and Ayla with a small light of hope. The Arkenstone was once more wrapped up in the cloth and then put into a chest, locked away for safekeeping with the key in Ayla's possession. Gandalf took his leave with Bilbo and Bard returned to his children after arranging a plan for tomorrow. Ayla felt the release of her headache once Bilbo had left with Gandalf and felt drained from all the arguing, reminding her as to why she avoided these sorts of conferences in the first place if she could help it.
She took a moment to compose herself, waiting to see if her headache will return. It was so strange, why would it happen so suddenly when only Bilbo approached her? She decided not to think too much on it tonight as she turned and walked up to Thranduil, placing her palms on his chest as she looked up at him. "Whatever happens tomorrow, please come back to me."
He placed his hands over hers, his palms warm like always as he looked down into her eyes. "I was going to say the same to you. I want you to remain within the city."
She wanted to protest, not wanting to be left behind but stopped herself when she remembered that there were still injured people. She looked down at their hands and nodded her head. As stubborn as they both were, Ayla knew that fighting will happen and she was no use to anyone in battle.
"Nin mel," he said softly, placing a hand to the side of her face. "I promise to return to you so long as I know you are waiting for me." Ayla looked up at him, gazing into his grey eyes.
"I love you," she said softly.
He smiled down at her, caressing her cheek lovingly as he lowered his head, pressing his lips to hers.
xxxxx
(Past)
Four months since she woke up in Middle Earth and still she had absolutely no idea what happened. What cosmic cruelty brought her to this nightmare of a nerd paradise? It boggled her mind and she still couldn't remember what she had been doing before all of this. All she could piece together was waking up at an ungodly hour in January, got ready for work, stopped by her usual coffee shop and then…nothing. That was where things then got complicated. She definitely was missing something but she just didn't know what.
What she did know was that she was in Middle Earth (wherever the hell that was), it was the beginning of the Third Age, she is currently in a country called Rohan, and she discovered that she can't kill people to defend herself or others. If she killed then she would be paralyzed from a white hot pain that was worse than death. And on the subject of death, she couldn't die!—well, she can die but she didn't stay dead.
Was she undead?
The only explanation she could compare her strange situation to was that of a video game scenario, if your character died they would come back if you had an extra life on deck. But in her case, when she came back from death, the process was horrible. Everything would all come back to her at once, shocking her brain and system into overdrive, overwhelming her to the point where she wanted to stay dead. Then there was the adjustment period, reining in her erratic emotions and building up her self-control. For the first two weeks it was a struggle to not cry, laugh or scream or do all three for no reason. She would literally isolate herself, find a cave or a hollowed out tree and just wait it out until everything calmed down. Noise and light were the worst after resurrecting, her sight and hearing too sensitive to bear it.
The worst part was she couldn't even kill an orc without being crippled by pain. Talk about unfair! At least she wasn't docked points for using non-lethal self-defense, so long as she didn't kill anyone she was fine. She supposed kick-boxing and martial arts as a teenager paid off. Hopefully all she had to do to stay alive and avoid agonizing pain was to keep helping people, or at least avoid conflict.
But how long can she keep it up?
How long until she found her way home?
xxxxx
(Present)
By daybreak Ayla watched as Thranduil led his army towards the gates of Erebor, dressed in his fine armor and riding on his great elk. She found herself admiring how majestic he looked as he rode off, comparing him to the paintings of kings she had seen in museums and text books, only he was so much better than an old painting. She went to stand at the outlook, watching as the army approached Erebor, hoping that bartering the Arkenstone for an even trade would be taken.
Please don't let it come to war.
Ayla watched nervously, wishing she had gone with Thranduil to the gate but knew that her presence wouldn't make a difference. Kwenthrith stood beside her, watching as well. Ayla cursed under her breath when she saw the army of dwarves arrive at the top of the hill. It was Dain, of the Iron Hills. She instantly knew this wasn't going to end well and had to fight the urge to go running out there instead of standing far away. She hated war…she hated the death it brought. She wanted to scream when the two sides engaged in battle, the skirmish making her stomach turn. But then her blood ran cold when the sound of rock cracking and crumbling came. The ground shook, sending tremors as far as where Ayla stood in the city ruins and inciting cries of panic from the people taking refuge within the already crumbling ruins. It had ceased the fighting as all heads turned to the other side of the valley as three massive worms sprung out from the rock hills before retreating back into their holes.
An eerie silence fell over the valley.
A horn then blared from the north and a legion of orcs came streaming out. Both elves and dwarves disengaged from one another. The dwarves rushing forward, creating a phalanx wall of iron shields and spears. And as the orcs were only a few paces away was when the elves leapt into action, flying over the dwarves and catching the orc enemies by surprise as the former opposing armies joined forces. While the allied troops of elves and dwarves fought the first wave of orcs, another legion of orcs marched towards the city.
They were surrounded.
Ayla turned and rushed towards the unarmed people, yelling for them to get to safety. The elven and human soldiers that had remained in the city had taken arms, readying themselves for battle. Once the walls had been breached the orcs flooded through the city, killing everyone in their path. Ayla directed the people towards the great hall, knowing it would trap them all in but hopefully it would buy them all time. She helped an elderly woman who could barely hovel up the uneven streets with her walking stick. A man came up to them and took the old woman, carrying her on his back.
A scream escaped Ayla when a chunk of wall nearly fell on her and an ogre jumped down in front of her. Terrified Ayla let her instincts take over and ran. Looking over her shoulder she saw the ogre chasing after her, swinging his massive spiked club at her. She ducked her head to avoid a fatal hit.
"Oh shit-oh shit-ohshitohshitohshit!" Looking forward she willed herself to run faster and then looked back in time to duck again. Looking ahead she saw a small hole in the wall. She ducked again and then dropped her weight back and slid into the crack where she dropped to a lower level. She missed her footing and fell, hitting her head and jogging an old memory of the past, when she first came to Middle Earth and how slow she was to adapt. Resistant to change. How she ran from danger and letting others die while she selfishly thought of only her own safety.
Time certainly changed.
Ayla groaned in pain as she rolled onto her side and slowly pushed herself up. Her head throbbed where it had been hit, touching the area tenderly and feeling wetness on her fingers. She pulled her hand back to see blood. Her blood. The sound of screaming and clashing of metal slowly returned to flood her sense of hearing as she tried to focus on what she had been doing previously. She stood up, leaning against the wall for support as her head slowly stopped spinning. More clanging of metal. More screams of terror and battle cries.
Two orcs came around the corner, spotting Ayla and immediately began to sprint towards her with their massive swords swinging. Ayla's eyes widened as she screamed and ducked, frantically moving, avoiding each swing as her feet peddled backwards until she tripped over a dead body. She inhaled sharply as she looked up just as Bard appeared in time, cutting the head off of one and then stabbing the other in the ribs.
"My Lady!" he gasped, reaching down and helping Ayla up. "Are you hurt?"
"Bard, tell your men to fall back! There's just too many." Ayla said frantically.
"Get the women and children to safety." he said before hurrying off back into battle. Ayla ducked and weaved from attacks and falling buildings and jumped over dead bodies of orcs and humans and elves. Turning a corner she climbed up a flight of stone stairs to the market, yelping in surprise when an ogre fell dead in front of her. She moved around it and kept to the wall when she came across Gandalf facing off with another ogre.
His incantation spell failed as the crystal on the end of his staff did not respond. The wizard tried to adjust it as the ogre swung its mace down. Ayla ran forward and pulled Gandalf out of the way in time as the mace crashed into the cobble stone street. Gandalf turned around and stabbed the end of his staff into the ground, the crystal lighting up for a moment before going out. Ayla again pulled him backwards as the ogre swung at them again. The two of them moving together to avoid a fatal hit. There was an indistinct scream from behind them and suddenly the catapult on the back of a dead ogre launched a man in a dress into the other ogre's mouth where it choked on the body and fell dead.
Not bothering to question what just happened the two moved on. Gandalf fought his way through the onslaught of orcs with Ayla right behind him. Reaching the rampart they could see the men and women rallying together against the orc invasion.
"We may yet survive this." Gandalf said. Ayla nodded until she felt the buzzing of her headache returning.
"Gandalf!" called Bilbo, running up to them and then turning to point towards the hill where the orc signal flags stood. "It's Thorin!"
"And Fili, Kili and Dwalin." Gandalf said, seeing the four riding on the backs of goats up the hill. "He's taking his best warriors."
"To do what?" Bilbo asked.
"To cut the head off the snake." Gandalf said.
"They'll need backup." Ayla said.
"I quite agree." Gandalf said.
"Gandalf!" they heard a voice call and the three of them turned to see Legolas and Tauriel riding up the street. They stopped and dismounted.
"Legolas." Ayla said, relieved to see him and Tauriel as she rushed forward. She hugged them both, happy to see them safe.
"There is a second army approaching. Bolg leads a force of Gundabad orcs. They are almost upon us." Legolas said, "Ayla was right to send us to investigate."
"Gundabad? This was their plan all along." Gandalf said, feeling dread creeping into his old bones. "Azog engages our forces, then Bolg sweeps in from the north."
"Th-the north? Where is the north exactly?" Bilbo stuttered.
"Ravenhill." Ayla said, looking back towards where they last saw Thorin and his three warriors.
"Thorin is up there." Bilbo said, "And Fili and Kili. They're all up there!"
Ayla turned to Legolas, her eyes pleading with urgency. "Go. Help them!" she urged. Legolas nodded his head and signaled Tauriel to follow him. She turned back to the wizard. "Gandalf, we need to go."
"Yes." the wizard said, turning to face her and seeing the brave woman he knew. "Come, we must find Lord Thranduil."
They moved through the cramped alleyways as what remained of the people rushed to escape the fighting. The sound of an elven horn guided them, elven soldiers appearing almost out of nowhere as they assembled to the call. Following them they found Thranduil, standing in the middle of a crossing with dead bodies of orcs piled around and his men lining up for their next orders. Ayla ran ahead of the wizard towards Thranduil, relieved to see he wasn't hurt. The Elvenking's face showed that he felt the same as he embraced Ayla tightly against him.
"My Lord!" Gandalf called, getting the Elvenking's attention. "Dispatch this force to Ravenhill. The dwarves are about to be overrun. Thorin must be warned."
"By all means, warn him." Thranduil said, taking Ayla's hand and leading his soldiers away. "I have spent enough elvish blood in defense of this accursed land. No more."
"Thranduil?" Gandalf said, frustrated that the King would willingly turn his back.
"You can't be serious." Ayla said, pulling away from Thranduil as she looked up at him in disappointment. This was the attack on Erebor all over again. Thranduil took hold of Ayla's upper arm and pulled her to his side forcefully.
"We are leaving." he said sternly.
"No! These people will die!" Ayla argued, trying to pull her arm out of his grip. He only tightened his hold on her, yanking her closer to him as he glared down at her.
"Do not argue with me!" he hissed, "I will not spill any more of my people's blood."
She slapped him across the face, surprising the Elvenking as his hold on her loosened and she pulled her arm from his grip, backing away from him. Looking into his eyes she saw that he was still stunned from her striking him. She was stunned that she even did it herself as her palm stung from the amount of force she had used. But she wasn't backing down. Not for what she believed was right. "Then leave." she said, her voice firm and determined.
Thranduil looked down, unable to meet her eyes as he was put to shame by her selflessness. Her willingness to risk her life for others. Even when the said other had tried to kill her less than a day ago. The look in her eyes was a resurgence of the same look she gave him years ago when he refused to help the dwarves from the dragon. It was the last look she gave him before disappearing.
He stepped towards her and took a chance to look into her eyes again.
"Lead by example, Thranduil. Be the honorable King I know you to be." Ayla said, touching his arm. "Please…I'm begging you."
xxxxx
(Past)
Another soldier screamed in pain while Ayla tied off his upper thigh with a makeshift tourniquet by using a leather belt. She was in the middle of a battlefield just on the outskirts of Osgiliath. From what she had gathered it was a last ditch effort of what remained of Mordor's forces as it had been just days after the defeat of Sauron. And Ayla had only been in Middle Earth for less than twenty-four hours. She tightened the tourniquet, getting another scream from the soldier.
"Shut up, you'll live through this." she said, already seeing the gushing of blood slowing down. She didn't have much with her, her instruments were handy but out in an actually field they were useless. She pulled out a spool of thread and tied it to the end of a curved needle. It was a rather lucky coincidence that she woke up with a bag of medical supplies though her supplies were running dangerously low. "Try to hold still."
Ayla had to pin his injured leg down with her knee as she looped the curved needle into his wound; her intention was to tie off the severed artery to prevent the man from bleeding to death. The soldier eventually stopped screaming as he passed out from the pain and Ayla managed to finish the job. It was a crude job, and he might end up losing the leg, but at least for now he will live. She stood up and went to the next injured soldier. She was a stranger to this world and she owed no loyalties to anyone, but she couldn't ignore her calling. Plus she could just imagine her father, looking down at her with disappointment if she had simply walked away.
Her father had been a soldier and a field medic. He was given the honor of a purple heart for his services in the Gulf War. Ayla had once wanted to join the army and follow in her father's footsteps but after his death that drive seemed meaningless if he wasn't around to see it. At least now she would be able to honor his memory this way (sort of).
"You there! Woman!" a soldier called out, approaching Ayla while she was examining another injured man. "What are you doing out here?" he demanded.
"What does it look like?" Ayla quipped, taking off the armor on her patient's left knee and using her thumbs she forced the kneecap back into place. The man yelped in pain but at least his knee was now fixed. She took his dagger and laid the flat side against the side of his knee and began to wrap it tightly with the soldier's sword belt to hold it in place. "You'll want to keep this leg straight for a few days; you more than likely tore a few tendons and ligaments." Ayla stood up and faced the soldier questioning her. He wasn't very tall for a man, as he was Ayla's height. And he also didn't come alone as three other soldiers had followed him.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"I'm a doctor." Ayla answered.
"Nonsense! Women can't be healers."
"Oh, and sexist jackasses like you can be soldiers? The scandal!" she said sarcastically as she moved on to look for the next injured person.
He drew his sword and pointed it at Ayla. When he didn't get the reaction he was seeking from Ayla he growled in anger. "You'll pay for your insolence!" he lunged forward and Ayla stepped out of the way, grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm painfully around his back, forcing him to drop his sword.
The three soldiers all stood back in surprise by Ayla. "Now, are we gonna have a problem moving forward?" she asked, twisting his wrist hard and getting a cry of pain.
"Y-you filthy harl-AAH!"
Ayla had twisted his arm further, feeling the tendons and muscles under her hand reaching their limits. "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."
"N-no…My Lady…for-forgive me!" she released him and he fell forward, clutching his arm and looking back at her with wide eyes and a snarl on his lips.
"Fuck off." she said, grabbing her bag and moving on to find other survivors. It was so disorienting to her. Was this a dream? Was she experiencing some Wizard of Oz scenario and she had to find a pair of ruby slippers to take her home? Maybe Oz was too much to hope for since she had seen the dead bodies in the field and figured it was more accurate to compare it to Dungeons and Dragons. She was in a nerd's ultimate fantasy. But for Ayla, surrounded by death…this was a fucking nightmare.
She couldn't recall what happened before waking up in this strange place. When she tried all she got was a massive headache and a feeling of vertigo.
xxxxx
(Present)
Thranduil had given in to Ayla, giving the order to his army to keep fighting while he accompanied Ayla to Ravenhill. Any orc that got in their way was immediately slain swiftly by his blade as they climbed the hill. Once they reached the summit, they were met with dead orcs and goblins everywhere. Ayla had gone ahead of Thranduil, passing through the narrow passages. The Elvenking was following close behind until his attention was diverted to something he was not expecting. He found his son, turning away towards him with a pained look in his eyes.
"I…cannot go back." Legolas said quietly, not meeting his father's gaze as he passed him.
"Where will you go?" Thranduil asked.
"I do not know." Legolas said, stopping in his tracks and turning to face his father.
"Go north," Thranduil said, feeling that in his heart it was time for his son to truly learn of the world. And what better way that to travel with someone that Legolas will have a close bond with? "Find the Dunedain. There's a young ranger amongst them. You should meet him. His father, Arathron…he was a good man. His son might grow to be a great one."
"What is his name?"
"He's known in the wild as Strider. His true name you must discover for yourself." The elf Prince turned away and began to leave when his father stopped him once more. "Legolas…your mother loved you. More than anyone. More than life."
It took Legolas a moment before he realized that his father was not speaking of Ayla but of his birth mother. He turned halfway, his right hand over his heart and then extending it to his father before he turned away again and left. Thranduil also turned away, finding Tauriel on the cliff-side, mourning over a dwarf and seeing her pain for the loss of his life. Pain he understood all too well.
A pain that had healed thanks to Ayla.
xxxxx
Ayla reached the top and looked around as she panted to catch her breath. Her eyes frantically searching. When she finally spotted Thorin she gasped and a sob escaped her as she ran to where he laid with Bilbo sitting at his side.
Bilbo saw her running up to them and quickly got to his feet. "Please—please do something!" he said frantically, not knowing what to do as he panicked. "He's hurt badly." Once she was at his side, she dropped heavily to her knees on the ice, ignoring the pain as she tearfully looked at his injuries and only cried harder when she saw the severity of his wounds.
The aftermath of war was as ugly as Ayla remembered, having been through so many over the centuries, the effects of it never got easier. Tears of pain, tears of mourning, tears of defeat. It hurt the same every time. It hurt even more when she was powerless to save the people she cared for, and this time was no exception as she wept over Thorin, his life draining away right before her eyes.
"Ayla…" he breathed, smiling weakly up at her. "I was certain that I would never see you again." more hot tears fell from her eyes as she stroked the side of his face. "How I wish things had turned out differently. How I wish…to have treasured you more…my love."
"Shh, don't speak. Save your strength." Ayla said, choking back a sob, still stroking his face.
"Can you forgive me, my love?" he asked, his voice becoming softer and harder to hear.
"Yes." Ayla said, taking his hand in hers and kissing the back of his gloved knuckles. "Yes, I forgive you. I forgive you, Thorin."
He blinked slowly up at her, his vision beginning to blur. He smiled softly at her. "Beloved…live on…be happy…tell him everyday how much you love him…have beautiful babies…watch them grow…and never regret the past…"
The light in his eyes faded and his final breath left his body. Ayla took in a deep inhale of breath before sobbing uncontrollably. She lowered her upper half down, planting a kiss to his lips and slowly rose up, staying at his side, holding his hand. Her mind cruelly conjuring up the past of when Thorin was first born and how he grew into a fine man. She sniffed, unable to stop the memories. She didn't notice when Bilbo stood and walked away, too focused on her own grief as she stared down at Thorin, putting every last detail of his face to memory before she could let herself say goodbye.
Ayla sat upon the edge of the frozen river, staring off into space, completely numb to the cold. The remaining company of dwarves had gathered and had taken away their fallen king, carrying his body back to Erebor to pay their last respects. Ayla did not go with them. Her mind kept replaying his final words to her and it broke her heart. He still loved her and in death he wished her happiness.
"Ayla," came Thranduil's soft voice, but she didn't turn to look. She felt numb and heartbroken, and she simply wanted to mourn in peace. "Ayla." Thranduil came and knelt down beside her and wrapped his cape around her shoulders and raised a hand to hook under her chin, turning her head to the right to face him. Looking up into his eyes that showed his empathy, Ayla felt the sting of hot tears return as she squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her head to his chest plate. She felt his arms wrap completely around her, pulling her close and felt his lips press against the crown of her head. At last she felt the bitter cold deep in her bones as time felt like it had begun to move again. Time for her kept moving forward while Thorin's had stopped forever.
xxxxx
In the aftermath of the war that had been won against the orcs, the new King Under the Mountain upheld the promise of giving what was due to the humans and elves. King Dane allowed Ayla and Thranduil to enter Erebor to pay their last respects to Thorin and his two nephews who fell in battle. Ayla stared at Thorin's body, shedding more tears as she said goodbye to him for a final time. Thranduil laid Orcrist over Thorin's body as a tribute of his final respects to the fallen King.
She lost Thorin and her two godsons.
Her thoughts went to Diz and how the news of her sons' deaths will devastate her.
Before leaving Erebor Ayla was reappointed as the liaison ambassador between Mirkwood and Erebor and now also to the new city of Dale. The heirlooms of the elves had been returned as a sign of mending old grudges and also as an extension of good will to a better future between them. As Ayla and Thranduil headed towards the gates to leave Erebor, Balin called out to her as he approached. The couple stopped and looked back.
"My Lady, before you leave, I wanted to return this to you." he said, holding out his hand to her with a bracelet in his palm. It was Thorin's engagement gift he had made for her so many years ago. The chain had been repaired. "It was in Thorin's pocket. I'm sure he had the intention of giving it back to you."
Ayla reached out and picked up the accessory, clutching it tightly in her palm as she brought it up over her heart. The heart shaped charm had been converted as a frame for a single piece of a Lasgalen gem. An addition Thorin must have added after she had left him. She expected to start crying but somehow she felt hollow. She managed to smile down at Balin, even though her smile was not genuine.
"Thank you." she said softly before turning away and leaving with Thranduil. The restored bracelet in her hand suddenly felt heavy.
xxxxx
The journey back to the Woodland Realm was quiet and the mood slightly heavy as the loss of elven lives counted well over a hundred. The injured doubling that. Ayla helped the other healers tend to the wounded, though Ayla's role was more direct and hands-on as she reset bones and sutured lacerations while the elven healers used their magic to heal what Ayla could not. Ayla couldn't sleep, her dreams consumed of the war, of all the people she couldn't help. Of Thorin's lifeless eyes looking up at her. Fili and Kili's pale, lifeless faces. So she kept herself busy. She checked every elf, inspecting their wounds and checking their vitals, making sure their pulses weren't weak or fluttering, their breathing wasn't labored or coming in short bursts and that they weren't running a fever.
Kwenthrith eventually had to force Ayla away and walk her back to her bedchamber, telling the woman that she was no good to anyone if she didn't get a proper rest. Thranduil was there to receive Ayla, taking her into his charge while Kwenthrith returned to the infirmary.
"You need to sleep." Thranduil said, helping her undress.
"No, I'm fine. I need to make sure that everyone is recovering safely." she protested, though even she had to admit that it was hard to sound convincing when even she could hear the exhaustion in her own voice.
"You're no good to any of them if you do not stop to take care of yourself." he said, holding her shoulders and seeing the shadows under her eyes from her lack of sleep. "I know you're in pain. You mourn for them. And rightfully so, but the pain will pass and I will still be here by your side."
She looked up at him, unable to hide her sorrow and stepped into his personal space, burying her face into his chest as she felt his arms encircle her in his warm embrace. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. He then guided her to bed, pulling the covers over her shoulders and watched her quickly succumb to sleep. He gently brushed her hair behind her ear, smoothing her soft dark hair with his hand. He watched her sleep, taking in her features. He had once thought her plain looking when he first saw her all those centuries ago. She was strange and she was always straight forward with her words, she then became interesting. Her origin a mystery, her long life matching the immortality of his kind, and then the greatest mystery…how she seems to cheat death.
She had been an irritant whenever he was around her, always challenging him, always boldly questioning his authority, his right as King. No one ever dared to talk back to him, argue with him. He would have banished her from the Realm if not for Legolas who loved her, viewing her as a motherly figure. He often found himself seeking her out, needing to know where she was at all times. Back then, wherever Legolas was she was close by and would smile brightly for him, her plain face lighting up and suddenly becoming strikingly beautiful, like the last bud to bloom in spring. And whenever she smiled he would see his son smile back, showing genuine happiness to the woman who healed his ailment with her own hands.
Whenever Ayla was gone, the Realm felt empty and grey. And for centuries he would hear stories of her travels, of her involvement of bettering the lives of others. At one point she had vanished for two hundred years and he had thought she had found a way back to her homeland, or perhaps death had finally taken her. But then she reappeared and had returned to his world, bringing color back. And when she finally came to him, she was different; she was the same woman but the air around her was older, wiser, experienced and untouched by time. She was once more interesting.
Thranduil traced his fingers lightly over Ayla's sleeping face, tracing the delicate curve of her eyebrows, the slight dipping curve of the bridge of her nose, around the edges of her delicious lips and up along her elegant jawline to her ear. He never expected to find love again, especially not after losing his wife, and especially not with a human. Yet life continued to be a surprise when Ayla was involved. He couldn't pinpoint when exactly he began to develop such warm feelings towards her, perhaps it started when his son began to laugh and smile happily again thanks to her healing hands; or perhaps it was when he saw her smile so brightly that nothing else could compare.
No jewel was more precious.
All the Elvenking knew was that it was gradual. He grew to respect her to the point that he valued her opinion and he wanted her to always be aware of him. Everything about her he wanted only for himself. Her smile, her laughter, her tears, her anger, her touch, her love; everything. And when he finally had it all, he felt complete. Whole. And selfishly he kept her to himself. Indulging in her attention.
She became his own version of the King's Jewel, and no other man could ever have her. And he will do whatever it takes to never again lose her. The idea of losing her again was a pain he did not want to ever experience again. And if possible, he wanted to spare her of further heartache and will continue to cherish every moment now that they had a future once more.
His mind drifted to the child they had lost, wondering what they would look like and how much of them both would be seen in them. He was certain that any child they would have together would look like her; they would have her dark hair and her warm brown eyes, and perhaps even their cheeks will dimple like Ayla's whenever they smiled or laughed. Perhaps now that they had time, maybe a child will be in the near future. The halls in his Realm certainly would benefit with the sound of a child's laughter.
Lift the darkness that had made itself comfortable in the woods.
Only time will tell if they will be blessed with the opportunity.
For once he had hope for their future together.
xxxxx
(Past)
Legolas let out a sharp hiss when Ayla pressed her thumbs into the palm of his right hand. He had spent hours every day, practicing his bowmanship to the point of making the muscles from his hands up his arms to his shoulders ache. Elven healing helped take away the discomfort but it would always return. He had gone to Ayla who had returned to the Woodland Realm after traveling back from the Misty Mountains. She had been gone for five years and Legolas was no longer the little boy she had left behind but a boy entering into his teen years. He had complained to her of his aches and pains from his long hours of practicing and Ayla offered an alternative method.
He squirmed in discomfort while Ayla dug her thumbs into the tender, blistered flesh and worked on the knots in his hands, fingers and wrists. After a minute it began to feel very good and the boy relaxed under her touch. She worked on each hand and massaged up each arm, loosening the knots in the muscles and taking away the tension that had built up.
"Naneth, how do you know so much?" Legolas asked while Ayla worked on the ball of his right shoulder. Ayla paused for a moment, not used to being called mother in Sindarin.
"Well, it takes years and a lot of studying." Ayla replied, "You really need to take care of yourself. You're still young but you should remember to properly stretch or else you'll keep getting these cramps."
"Father says your ways are unconventional and crude."
"Compared to elven practice I suppose my methods are crude. There are injuries out there that can't be healed with magic and chanting alone. Like when you broke your arm, the bone needed to be reset and elven magic couldn't do that."
"So then which way is better?"
"It depends on what the problem is." Ayla finished her massage and Legolas freely leaned back against her chest. Ayla smiled and wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug. "But you should know that everything has its limits and some things just can't be fixed."
"I've looked through Kwenthrith's books, and a lot of the things that she recorded were really disgusting."
Ayla let out a snort. "Like what?"
"How the body gets rid of waste and what happens to the flesh of wounds that cannot be cured." he tilted his head back to look up at her. "Did you really cut off a man's leg because it was diseased?"
"If I didn't then he would have died." Ayla said, finding it funny how all boys were the same, they were all fascinated by the grossest things.
"Did you really cut a person open to take out a part of their insides to cure the side-sickness?"
"Side-sickness? Oh, you mean appendicitis. Yes, in fact that's the most common surgery I perform in my travels."
"What's that? Appen…di…"
"Appendicitis, it's when the appendix has a blockage and then becomes inflamed from the build-up of mucus and bacteria." she side, placing a finger on his right lower abdomen, showing the boy where the appendix was located. "If left untreated it will then burst and the bacteria will poison the blood and that person will die."
"How do you prevent it from happening?"
"Unfortunately it's just one of those things that happens and needs to be removed surgically as soon as possible."
"Wouldn't that hurt them? To cut them open?"
"Yes, if the proper numbing agents weren't used beforehand."
"And how do you do that?"
"I thought you read Kwenthrith's journals?"
Legolas picked at the edge of his shirt. "I just looked at the pictures; I didn't read much since it was dry and dull. But will you tell me what you use?"
Ayla smiled, finding it cute that Legolas, despite being an elven prince with the finest tutors, was still just a typical boy. "I don't know, maybe I should make you read through her documentations to find out for yourself instead of asking for the answers." Ayla teased, "Anyways, it's not important right now. What's important is that those people lived."
Legolas yawned as Ayla stroked his soft hair and he eventually dozed off with his head rolled to the side on her shoulder and his body reclined against her. Ayla didn't disturb him, letting him sleep. Besides, it was an excuse to delay meeting up with the Elvenking, knowing he was expecting her and secretly enjoying irritating him with little things like not meeting him right away when he asks for her.
An hour went by and Legolas was still fast asleep against her, and Ayla didn't mind. She enjoyed the quiet moments like this, giving her the time and space she needed to declutter her mind of dumb things that had no place in her head. She had never been one for meditating but ever since she came to Middle Earth, meditating actually helped with any anxiety or panic attacks she often had in the first few years. And being in such a beautiful place it was easy to empty her thoughts and even easier to get lost in a daydream. Another hour slipped by and the Elvenking made his appearance, coming upon the sight of his son sleeping soundly in Ayla's arms.
He raised a questioning eyebrow at her and Ayla simply replied by putting a finger to her lips, telling him to let his son sleep. Thranduil quietly sat down on the vine covered bench, looking at the peaceful face of his young son, sleeping against the woman who had become a mother to him.
"So, it appears my son has been here this whole time instead of with his tutors." Thranduil said softly.
Ayla giggled softly. "Give the kid a break. He came to me complaining about his arms and hands feeling tight so I just loosened them up with a massage. He then fell asleep after that and I didn't have the heart to wake him up."
"Is that another healing trick of yours?" he asked casually.
"It's called alternative medicine where I'm from. It's actually very popular and if done right it's very relaxing. Give me your hand and I'll show you." she said, holding her hand out to receive his.
He laid his hand down on hers and she turned it over with the palm facing up and began to knead her thumbs into the pads. His hand jerked a little from the twinge of pain from the applied pressure.
"How is this relaxing?" he asked, beginning to think she was hurting him on purpose.
"Don't be a baby and give it time, you've obviously never had this done." she said as she continued to move her thumbs in rhythmic circles into his palms. After a minute his hand relaxed and Thranduil was surprised by how good it felt. "See? A little pain at first but after you work through the tough parts your muscles begin to relax."
"I can see why this is popular where you're from." he said.
"Yeah, it's too bad that it's so expensive."
"Why is that?"
"Well it's definitely a profitable industry and people are willing to pay to feel good and get rid of any pain they may be experiencing. And a lot of people are in pain because of their lifestyle."
"Were you one of those people?"
"In my profession I'm always on my feet for hours, so indulging in a massage every now and then was beneficial."
"Is it just the hands that are treated?"
Ayla looked up at him and gave him a saucy smirk. "No. It can be the whole body." she said, her fingers moving up to his wrist and forearm, working on the knots in his corded muscles. His eyes met hers, a flash of heat rising within him as he imagined her hands elsewhere, kneading at his flesh.
"Perhaps at a later time."
xxxxx
(Present)
When Ayla awoke it was dark with the hint of blue light from the moon outside, softly lighting the room. She was still tired, her lids heavy with sleep as she turned over onto her other side and saw Thranduil sitting at his writing desk, wearing his silk robe of a deep forest green that looked black in the dimly lit room. Only a single candle was lit on his desk and the quill in his hand moved with the strokes of his hand, the silvery feathers catching the candle light and reflecting it like gold. Watching him, Ayla couldn't help but drink him in with her eyes. His profile was elegant, his long platinum hair hanging perfectly down his back, looked silvery white with the candle light casting a soft yellow glow, making him look heavenly.
Thranduil set his quill back in the ink well before leaning forward to blow out the candle and then stood up. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned towards the bed, seeing Ayla was awake. He saw her smile at him and he returned the smile in kind. He slipped off his robe and draped it over the back of his chair, showing that he was shirtless and his silk pants hung loose at his hips. He walked over to the bed and lay beside her, sliding one arm under her while wrapping the other around her waist and pulled her close. Her sweet scent filled his nose; the smell was something akin to what he could only describe as warm sugar and spring.
He kissed her forehead and heard her sigh, her warm breath caressing over his neck as she snuggled closer. She kissed his throat and ran her hands up his torso and over the firm pectoral muscles of his smooth chest. He moved his hand to her face, tilting it up to kiss her, enticing her into a growing passion. Their hands moved over each other, working off their clothes until they were both naked under the sheets.
She pushed Thranduil to lie on his back as she moved to straddle his lap and pulled him up into a sitting position. His eyes shined almost as white as the stars in the silvery light, running up and down her body, taking in the curves of her breasts just moments before his hands slid over them, his fingers teasing lightly around her nipples.
His deep breathing rushed in an even rhythm through the dark, sharpening to a hiss as she slowly guided her body down onto his straining cock, feeling the delicious stretch and glide of him as he pushed deeper and deeper within. He always felt just at the verge of being too long when she was on top, inciting a mild bite of pain as she let her weight settle fully upon him, but it was only just enough to push the aching sweetness to a new level of intensity. He was still for a moment, his eyes closed as she clenched against him and savored the sensation of being fully joined, utterly filled. As she slowly started to move, sliding herself up and then back down, his hands left her hips and explored the expanses of her bare skin, pressing warmly into every hidden nook. Her face was pulled to his and his mouth clamped to hers, demanding entry as he breathed heavily through his nose, and she gratefully relented, opening completely, drinking in his mouth, his tongue, making love in her kiss.
His long, silvery hair was soft between her fingers, the curve of his head solid and real under her probing palms, his jaw working slowly with each suckling kiss, and her whole body was pressed backward with the delving force of his mouth. She sighed in ecstasy, returning the push back toward him, lips grinding against teeth while their mouths met in a slow crush of growing urgency. She dug her fingers into the thick pads of flesh at his back, his shoulders, his waist, measuring the strength and softness of every muscled hill with the hungry force of her hands.
Her heart worked slightly faster than his as she let her body control the pace, the beating of their pulses just enough out of sync that together it sounded like a horse galloping, traveling some windy path toward some blissful nirvana. But she was not conscious of any need for an orgasm; needing not a physical release, but a release from the physical; to move into and beyond the body and feel his soul and to give him hers, to be completely absorbed into each other.
But the physical responded despite her intentions, racking her nerves with powerful, resonating shudders that stung at the surface of her skin, each cell in her body was full to bursting with sensation as her heart was with love, as her inner recesses were with his engorged flesh, as her mouth was full with his. She heard whimpers as slowly their pace increased, following the primal needs of their body to finish what they'd started, and in the occasional clearing of the haze in her mind, she came to feel sore streaks running down her back and burning down to her buttocks. It was the lingering remnants of his touch as he bruised across her, digging into her flesh with the same ardency as she had his, leaving behind rebounding muscles trying to unbind themselves in the aftermath of his strength.
His whimpers became low, throaty growls as his mouth finally pulled away from hers and tore down her neck, suckling and biting. He was holding her so tightly that she couldn't expand her chest enough to breathe, but it didn't matter. She didn't need air when she had him, she had within her grasp the object of her urgent, unbearable need, the man who her love and her body demanded to the point of shattering, holding her hostage every moment they were apart. And now he was here, and everything had changed, every single damned thing in the world had changed and twisted and became almost unrecognizable, all of it except for the fact that he loved her, too. For some unknowable reason, his love had endured the time and the distance and the heartbreak of her absence, and if his arms crushed every last bone in her body and she never took a breath again, the only thing that would still matter was the fact that he loved her.
Somewhere along the way, they fell back onto the bed. Her body had merged with his, with the sky, the moon, and the air, ringing loud against the walls of the room with the sharp trill of sex, harmonizing with the music of his cries, his grunts, his voice whispering, low and sultry, I love you. I love you. Stay with me forever.
"Yes," she gasped as they emptied into each other, "Yes, I am yours…eternally yours."
xxxxx
(Years Later)
Thranduil was reclined back on the chaise lounge with Ayla who was resting against him, one leg on each side of her while they relaxed together. He had one hand holding one of hers, their fingers lacing and twining and caressing. His other hand was on Ayla's belly, stroking the small bump gently. They were living in relative peace within the Woodland Realm and Thranduil was truly happy to be living and ruling with his Queen. He kissed her delicate fingers and then the top of her head.
Ayla took his hand that she held and brought it down to massage his palm, her fingers expertly working on the knots from his long hours of writing missives and letters. He had never known such pleasures until Ayla came along and showed him, taking away the tension he had never realized was there until her massages. He enjoyed them greatly, the first time was years ago when Legolas was still very young and she had simply taken his hand and began to knead the flesh in his palm. That must have been around the time he began to desire her touch more, melting away the hidden aches and pains he had grown accustomed to ignoring.
Her skillful hands kneaded his muscles like dough. Her hands were methodical as they worked out the tight knots, but they were also sensual with the way they glided over his skin. They were both in a certain stage of undress; he was in only his silk pants while Ayla wore one of Thranduil's shirts. It was yet another quiet evening, with just the two of them in their own little world.
This was true bliss.
xxxxx
(Present)
Bolting up in bed, Ayla took in deep breaths as she tried to keep herself from hyperventilating. It was that dream again where she was on her way to work after getting her morning coffee and while crossing the street she was suddenly blinded by bright lights and the sound of a truck horn blaring. She couldn't recall that ever happening to her but for some reason she also couldn't deny that it may have. The only question was when did that happen? She needed to figure out what these dreams are or else she'll never get a good night's sleep again.
"What's wrong?" came Thranduil's sleepy voice.
Ayla took in a calming breath and let it out slowly before laying back down into his arms. "Nothing, just a bad dream."
"This is the seventh time you've woken in the middle of the night. Are you sure you're all right?"
"I think it's just stress." she said, and she felt his lips lightly brush her forehead. While she listened to his breathing slowing down as he fell back asleep, her mind was on the recurring dreams she's been having for the past week.
Not only did she dream about getting hit by a truck but she also dreamt of being in a white room and seeing a face but unable to make out the features. Strangely enough in that dream she could have sworn she could smell cedar and spice, the very smell that Thranduil had, but she attributed that to sleeping next to him. She tried remembering every detail of those dreams but couldn't seem to recall anything beyond what her mind provided. It was frustrating her, she felt like she was just on the edge of seeing it all clearly, especially the face in the white room. But then again, maybe it was stress. After all…Middle Earth was on the verge of war and Thranduil was leaving to take his army down to Dul Goldor and join forces with the elves of Lothlorien.
She didn't look forward to seeing Thranduil leave for war, her fear for his safety another contributing factor to her restless nights.
xxxxx
(One year earlier)
Ayla and Thranduil had travelled to Rivendell to Elrond's Summoned Council. They had arrived a week before anyone else showed up, which gave the couple time to rest up from their journey, especially Ayla who had been nothing but miserable during the journey. Being twenty-four weeks pregnant meant she was reaching that stage where getting comfortable and staying comfortable was becoming a challenge. It was just a lucky thing that a soft mattress and lying with a whole bunch of pillows around her (under her head, between her knees, against her back) and an open window was the perfect recipe for pregnancy comfort. Thranduil let her rest, knowing she needed it as she carried precious cargo.
When Arwen returned to Rivendell with a wounded hobbit, Elrond had purged out the evil but could not heal the wound completely. Ayla had managed to mend the wound, scraping out the dead tissue before suturing the wound closed. And then of course surprising her son, Aragorn with her pregnancy.
Walking along the path in the gardens with Aragorn, Ayla was catching up with her son on his adventures. "You've raised two sons and now you'll be raising a third child." Aragorn said smiling at her and looking down at her round belly. "I had not expected this, however, so forgive my earlier shock."
"Maybe if you visited your mother more often then some things wouldn't come as a shock." Ayla said with a hint of her motherly scolding while rubbing her stomach. Geez it itched like crazy, her skin stretching out daily as the baby grew.
"You look happy."
She looked up at Aragorn and gave him a smile. "I am." she hooked her arm with his. "I'm glad you and Legolas are getting along. I was surprised to learn that he found you with the other Dunedain and that you gave him your real name."
"Well, imagine my surprise when we found out that we were both raised by the same woman."
"I'm guessing you didn't start off with who raised you. How did you two figure it out?"
"The song you sang to me when I was a child, he heard me humming it one evening and that's how we figured it out."
Ayla laughed, "Of all the things."
"So, how much longer until the baby is born?"
"Let's see…its autumn now, so this winter."
"You always did like the snowy season." Aragorn said, "So what do you hope for? Another boy? Or perhaps try your hand at raising a girl?"
Ayla playfully bumped her shoulder against his. "Girls are a whole breed of their own, not as easy as boys."
"How so?"
"When boys get in trouble they're not very good about covering their tracks, whereas girls can get caught in the act and be forgiven by just smiling sweetly at you."
Aragorn laughed, "And how many times can that trick work?"
"As many times as we need it to." Ayla said, giving him a mischievous smile. "You'll learn someday when you have kids of your own."
"I know Lord Elrond has asked you to sit in on the council, but will you be all right? You haven't been part of any council in a long time, especially with men from Gondor."
"I understand your concern, but don't worry; I have already turned down his invitation to sit in your boys' club."
"You say that now but he always seems to know how to get you involved when he needs to."
"Of course he does. I hope a certain wizard hasn't been filling your head with ideas."
"What do you mean?"
"Did Gandalf tell you to wait in Bree for those hobbits?"
"How did you guess?"
"I'm your mother, plus Legolas told me when he returned home for a brief period."
"That elf ratted me out, did he?"
"Siblings are the worst, aren't they?" Ayla teased, running her hand over the round curve of her stomach again. As happy as she was to be pregnant and feeling the baby moving inside her, deep down she was afraid of the worst happening again. She was afraid of reliving that personal hell she had suffered in her last marriage. And she knew that Thranduil also worried, always making sure that a pair of guards were nearby wherever she went. "Whatever it is that Gandalf has up his sleeve, I just want you to be careful. Wizards always seem to have ulterior motives and Gandalf has a habit of sticking his nose in places it doesn't belong."
"Speaking from personal experience?"
Ayla smiled up at him, "A story for another time, I promise."
"Naneth, there you are!" Legolas said after coming around a corner and approaching the pair. "I see that Aragorn is to blame for you being on your feet."
"I wanted to take a walk and your brother offered to walk with me." Ayla said, taking Legolas' arm and walking with both her boys on either side of her. "Now you can join us and I can show off to everyone my handsome boys."
Legolas let out a soft chuckle, walking alongside his mother and brother. Indulging her whims such as going on strolls when she should be resting. He smiled at his human brother over their mother's head, knowing how rare it was for all of them to be in one place at the same time. They walked through the open halls of Rivendell, the conversation mostly about the baby and what gender it could be. Both Aragorn and Legolas were in agreement that Ayla will have a girl since she had already suffered her punishment twice by raising them and then went on to which names their future sister should have.
"Her name should be Leliana." Aragorn said.
"A common name that many bar maids have." Legolas said, dismissing the name. "It should be Meira."
"A fine name for a fine mare in any stable, but we are picking a name for a princess." Aragorn retorted.
Ayla let out a laugh, "Of all the things to argue about."
"Did you already pick a name mother?" Aragorn asked.
"No, Thranduil said we should wait until the baby is born before agonizing over a name." Ayla said, though secretly she had already picked out the names. They were names she had chosen years ago when she was a little girl. "And I expect you both to be there when your sibling is born."
"We promise, Naneth, we will both be present." Legolas said.
A servant approached them, informing them that they were expected for dinner with Elrond. With her escorts, Ayla walked into the great hall where a long table stood with a spread that made the baby inside her squirm with excitement. She released her sons' arms as she walked ahead of them to be received by their host who smiled fondly at her. Her husband stood beside Elrond, looking as handsome as always.
"Lady Ayla, you are looking more radiant than ever as you carry a new life." Elrond said.
"Thank you, Lord Elrond." Ayla said as Thranduil came to stand beside her, placing his hand at the small of her back.
"Come, let us feast and celebrate in good health." Elrond said, turning to the table to take his seat at the head. Thranduil sat to Elrond's left and Ayla right beside him while across from them sat Gandalf. Aragorn and Legolas were seated across from Ayla next to the wizard. The table was filled with other guests from across all of Middle Earth; humans and dwarves and elves, even hobbits. It was a strange gathering but Ayla didn't think to question it.
xxxxx
Later that evening Thranduil helped Ayla into bed, having become quite the mother hen when it came to his wife and their unborn child. It had become a habit of his now, making sure Ayla was comfortable before laying beside her and kissing her belly. He was already in love with their child and was eager for them to be born. He felt Ayla's fingers stroking his hair before he raised his face up to look at her. He could already envision their child. They will have Ayla's dark hair and eyes and her beautiful lips, while having Thranduil's bearings. Their child will be beautiful, that he had no doubt in. Just a few more months and their child will be born.
He hoped for a daughter.
A princess to spoil.
xxxxx
Sitting beside Thranduil at the Council Meeting where their seats were situated to the right of Elrond's seat, it was clear that Elrond had persuaded her to sit in on the meeting. The men openly stared when Ayla walked by while the elves and dwarves, Aragorn and Gandalf all bowed their heads to her and the show of respect only raised questioning looks from the humans. Their looks were then turned to surprise when Elrond motioned for her to sit right beside him and Thranduil took the seat on her other side. It would have been funny to her under other circumstances but Ayla strangely felt wary to be present. In fact, she didn't want to be a part of the meeting at all but Elrond had convinced her otherwise saying her presence would help keep the peace (though Ayla highly doubted it). What didn't help was that earlier that morning Gandalf had persisted she be present and it was the worst thing ever when both the wizard and Elrond teamed up against her.
She couldn't use the pregnancy card to get out of it.
It also didn't help that they were all sitting in stone chairs with no cushions, making her back ache like crazy. At twenty-four weeks (or at least she thinks she was at twenty-four weeks), her stomach was already showing and the baby had just started to move and was having a good ol' time pressing into her lower back. That fuckin' wizard and this pointy-eared bastard owe me big time for sitting on the world's most uncomfortable chair. she thought bitterly. Damn, can't this kid ever sit still long enough for me to attempt getting comfortable? Come on Junior, give mommy a break!
When the ring was presented and placed on the dais in the center of their circle, Ayla felt a strange twist in her stomach, almost like the baby was reacting to the ring as she felt it squirm inside her. She placed a hand on her stomach, rubbing it back and forth over the rounded curve while she felt Thranduil's hand gently squeeze hers in a show that he will protect her and the baby. And as comforting as that thought was, it didn't take away the worrying thought that whatever evil was coming off the ring might be doing something to her baby. If it was not for Thranduil, she would have long since walked out on the meeting in favor of putting her feet up. She leaned closer to Thranduil and spoke in a low voice, "I need to leave."
Before Thranduil could respond an argument broke out as men, dwarves and elves argued over the fate of what to do with the ring. The negativity was draining her and making her stomach cramp, and suddenly a shadow fell over the council and the dark tongue echoed in the darkness around them. She squeezed Thranduil's hand as she felt a tightness seize her stomach, making her worried of a premature contraction. As the arguing died out under the booming voice of Gandalf who bellowed a spell to quiet the voice, Ayla felt the tightness in her stomach ease up and her grip on Thranduil's fingers loosened up. She let out a slow breath and looked to Aragorn and Legolas who had glanced concerned looks to her.
The meeting went on with more arguing until a small hobbit named Frodo Baggins boldly volunteered to take the ring to Mordor. Along with the hobbit did Aragorn and Legolas volunteer (much to Ayla's chagrin), and then a dwarf named Gimli. From behind the bushes came out three more hobbits, joining in the ragtag team and then a man from Gondor named Boremer. And of course leading them all was Gandalf.
Elrond then christened them "The Fellowship of the Ring."
All this fuss over a piece of jewelry. Ayla thought tiredly.
xxxxx
Kwenthrith felt over Ayla's belly, pushing firmly in specific areas where Ayla had taught her. Ever since the meeting the baby had been squirming around to the point of making her sick.
"I don't feel anything abnormal." Kwenthrith said, "But it may be safest for you to stay on bed rest from now on."
Not in much of a mood to argue Ayla just nodded her head, though they both knew it was only going to be a temporary agreement. She sat up, readjusting the pillows behind her. Bed rest was just one of those orders she normally never followed through with. Kwenthrith stayed with her until Legolas entered the room and she took her leave to give them privacy. Sitting beside her on the bed, he placed a hand on her stomach with a soft smile.
"Did you really have to volunteer?" Ayla asked with a slight pout. Aragorn she understood volunteering for this mad adventure, he seemed to be addicted in getting into trouble, but not her Legolas. She at least expected her elven prince to stay out of it.
"And let my little brother have all the fun?" Legolas japed, giving her his most dashing smile. "Do not worry about me, Naneth, I will return safely once this is all over. I have much to live for, the first being to return home to meet this little one." he said. Ayla smiled back, putting her hand over his.
"We'll be waiting."
After Legolas left Aragorn then came in a few minutes later, sitting with her and taking her hand in his.
"I may not be able to send you letters for some time." he said.
"Its fine, it'll spare me from trying to read through your chicken scratch writing."
Aragorn let out a snort, "I'm glad to see you again before I leave on this journey. And I'm glad to see you so happy."
"Are you trying to tell me that I was just miserable before?"
"No, I think you did well to hide your heartache from me as a child. I had always thought it was for my father but now I know the truth, and it comforts me knowing that for once someone is looking after you."
"Speaking of looking after, try not to overdo yourself, it's not a contest of who's the better warrior."
"I promise to behave." Ayla moved his hand onto the left side of her stomach, pressing his palm against it so that he could feel the slight movement. A smile broke out across his face. "Already so active."
"Yup, and I can already imagine getting tired chasing them around. Much like how I had to chase you around the minute you started walking."
He chuckled and leaned forward, kissing Ayla on the cheek. "Maybe this time you will have a chance to raise a girl."
"Haven't given much thought about that. So far I've only raised boys who had a knack in getting into all sorts of trouble." Ayla said with a smile.
xxxxx
Thranduil returned late in the night after a private meeting with Elrond and Gandalf, and expected to see Ayla asleep but in fact found her standing at the open window with her hands cradling her belly. With the soft light of the moon casting down on her she was a vision to behold. She was beautiful, more so now than before, admiring how well she carried motherhood. He approached her quietly, coming to stand close behind her and encircling her in his arms, placing one hand on her round belly while the other on her shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and breathed in her sweet scent.
"I thought Kwenthrith had ordered you to bed rest." he said softly.
"Mmm, I'm not very good at following orders." she replied, making him smile.
He let out a soft chuckle. "No, you most certainly are not."
"How did the meeting go?" she asked.
"There is no need to bother yourself with something so trivial. Gandalf has once again drabbled on about enemies that have yet to emerge from the shadows. It is a topic I do not wish to dwell on when there is something more important than a wizard's foreboding words." he said, moving his hand gently over Ayla's belly.
"He hasn't been wrong yet."
"Perhaps, but you and our child are far more important to me right now."
Ayla groaned softly, taking Thranduil's hand and moving it down to the underside of her belly where he could distinctly feel a kick. "The baby has been restless since the council meeting."
"Have you been in pain?"
She let out a sigh, "A little but it's just been really uncomfortable. I did think for a moment that I might go into premature labor."
"Then perhaps you should take Kwentrith's advice and rest, maybe then the baby will settle down." he said, gently guiding Ayla back to the bed and helping her get comfortable and placing the pillows in places to help her be comfortable.
"I'm worried for them. What if they fail? Then what?"
"Nin mel, you shouldn't allow these doubts to weigh on your mind. They will succeed." he said, sitting on the bed and rubbing her belly gently. "Ayla…what else is troubling you? I know Legolas and Aragorn leaving on this journey is not your biggest concern. Tell me."
"I've been here for what—two thousand years? And not once have I ever felt something effect me so much until that hobbit presented the ring. I don't know how else to describe it but I think the baby felt it, too."
"And that was why you wanted to leave in the middle of the meeting." he said, beginning to understand her concerns.
"Now I feel like something else is about to happen, but I just don't know what."
Thranduil disrobed and moved to spoon her from behind on the bed, kneading his knuckles in her back and getting a groan from Ayla. He knew how she complained about her back and knew where she needed him to massage. He would do what was necessary to keep his beloved and their unborn child comfortable and happy.
xxxxx
(Present)
The Elvenking stood still like a statue, his eyes glued to a vision reflecting from a puddle at his feet. It was perplexing and yet also frightening of what he was seeing. It was an image of Ayla, asleep in a white room and beside her bedside was himself, only he looked different. From the short haircut to the strange clothes, it was surreal to see such an image but what did it mean? Was he seeing a glimpse of the future? If so, then why would he be sitting next to Ayla while she was sleeping?
A drop of rain disturbed the placid surface of the puddle, erasing the image as more drops fell from the sky as it began to rain.
xxxxx
(Past)
Thranduil rushed into the infirmary after disposing of the orcs that had ambushed their caravan back from Rivendell just at the borders of Mirkwood. During the attack Ayla had been hurt before she was rescued by Arlen who killed the orc and took her back through the woods on horseback on Thranduil's orders. Every last orc in the ambush had been killed, he personally ordering to have their heads cut off before rushing back on a spare horse. He quickly ran to the private suite, passing by an elf maiden carrying an armload of bloodied sheets. He approached the door and immediately froze upon the horror of what he saw. Sitting up in the bed, pale and shaking, was Ayla. His silver eyes fell to between her legs where blood had stained the sheets and he immediately knew as an icy sense of despair filled his heart. With heavy steps he walked over to Ayla, strands of her dark hair clinging to her face and neck from the cold sweat that layered her pallid skin. And when their eyes met, his heart shattered at their shared loss as he immediately lowered himself down to her and gathered her up into his arms.
He heard her take in a sharp intake of breath that was quickly followed by her sobs as she turned her face into his chest. He felt her pain in his heart, unable to find the words to console her. The only comfort he could offer her was simply staying at her side. To lose a child…especially a child that was just weeks away from being born…the pain was indescribable. If he had to compare it to any other pain he would compare it to feeling almost similar to when he lost his first love. Almost similar. Losing his first wife had been heartbreaking, and he coped for the sake of his son by burying her memory and turning his heart to ice. But this time it was the opposite; he still had his love but they lost their child.
His heart was more than broken, his soul had been stained by this loss and yet what he felt was obviously nothing compared to Ayla's pain. She had carried their child, felt the life growing inside her. Now there was nothing. He held Ayla tightly in his arms while he watched Kwenthrith take away a small bundle wrapped in a stained cloth, fully knowing what lied within. The world around him faded away as he listened to his love's pained sobs.
They later buried their child, planting a sapling over the grave.
"I've lost two babies at nearly full term, one was killed by orcs, and I miscarried three times." Ayla said, sitting in front of the grave with Thranduil. "I've lost six—six—and two of them were yours."
Thranduil knew about Ayla's previous miscarriages with her first husband, he knew of three but then… "Was one of them Oakenshield's?" he asked, his voice low.
Ayla was quiet for a long before she replied. "Yes…and I'm sure it wouldn't have lived anyways, even if the circumstances at the time were different. It's become painfully clear to me that I can never have a baby. My womb is cursed."
Thranduil wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close into his side as she cried softly.
"You are not cursed. It was never your fault." he said.
"But what if it is?"
xxxxx
(Present)
There was a thunder storm that day, blocking out the sun as rain fell heavily from the dark sky with the occasional crackle of lightning flashing across the sky. It had been less than twenty-four hours since Dul Goldor fell at the final battle. The destruction of the One Ring had been felt across the land. The storm seemed appropriate, the rain cleansing the earth of the evil that had once poisoned it. And though it should be a time for rejoicing Ayla felt like something was nagging her at the back of her mind. Her dreams leading up to this point had been nothing but the same recurring dreams. The truck and the unfocused face in the white room. It bothered her to the point that she was getting frequent migraines and lapses in her memory. So far she was able to keep it to herself with no one noticing, but this couldn't go on forever. Just this morning she swore she saw in the mirror of an image of herself laying in a hospital bed, hooked up to monitors, IV drips, and a ventilator before the image vanished as soon as she blinked.
A part of her began to wonder if the dreams weren't dreams but flashes of memory that must be seeping into her subconscious. And the image of her in a hospital bed…was she hit by the truck in her dreams and this whole time she had actually been dreaming this world? The people? Everything? It made her stomach clench in anxiety. It would explain a lot, if this really was a dream it would explain why she can't die or never age or…have a baby…because none of this is real. It made her heart hurt. Of course this wasn't real. Why would it be? It's just typical for her, just as things fall into place and she finally feels happy with her life it all gets shit on by reality.
This wasn't real…
It was all just a very realistic dream.
Should she say something to Thranduil? No, it won't make a difference; he'll just say what she wants to hear because it's a dream. Maybe these headaches and "dreams" are messages from her subconscious that it's time to wake up. But she didn't want to.
"Nin mel," she heard Thranduil call softly, approaching her still in full armor. It was obvious that he just returned from the war, and he must have ridden hard to return because he was soaking wet.
Seeing him she suddenly didn't care if this was a dream or not because her feelings for him were real. That was the truth. Ayla ran to him with open arms, her body colliding into him, her arms wrapping around his neck in a tight embrace. His wet armor and cape soaking through her robes, making her feel the cold but also the warmth at the same time. Their lips found each other, meshing in a desperate passion. Just needing to feel each other. His cold lips quickly warmed up against hers before parting. He removed his gloves and dropped them to the floor as he held her head between his hands, looking at her, gazing into her brown eyes.
"I love you with all my heart."
xxxxx
Ayla gasped as she bolted upright in bed, her heart racing in her chest. Thranduil woke up from his sleep, sitting up and putting a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she said with a shaky voice, wiping cold sweat from her forehead.
"This cannot go on, Ayla. You have to tell me what is haunting your dreams." Thranduil said.
Ayla hesitated as she pulled the sheets up over her chest as she turned her body to look at him. She bit her bottom lip, still debating in her head if she should just go ahead with the truth. Looking into his silvery eyes, she saw the concern he had for her and gave in. She told him about her dreams and how she suspected that her dreams were the reality while their current moment was the dream. Thranduil pulled her into his arms, her dreams sounded familiar, especially the one about her being in a white room.
"This reminds me of a famous allegory; 'I once dreamt of a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.'"
"So then you are wondering if you are dreaming of being a butterfly or that you are the butterfly dreaming about you?"
"Makes no sense, I know."
"Ayla, you just might be right." Thranduil said, brushing a lock of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "I saw a vision right after the fall of Dol Guldor, it was of you sleeping in bed inside a white room and that I was sitting beside you as if waiting for you to wake up."
"What if I don't want to wake up?"
Thranduil closed his eyes, feeling his chest ache. "I don't think you have a choice. If it's all true and your real self is waking up somewhere, then I am also there, waiting for you to return to me."
Tears stung her eyes. "But what if you aren't there?"
"Your dream and the vision I saw cannot be coincidence. It just means that wherever you are I will find you." Thranduil said, stroking her hair. "I will find you, nin mel."
Ayla felt a deep, painful throb in her head and for a split second she saw a flash of white. There was a dreadful, sinking sensation in her heart that made her regret voicing her suspicions. It was no longer a suspicion as it was obvious now with the headaches and dreams. She was the butterfly being dreamt of while her real body was waking up. She looked up at Thranduil, wanting to remember every detail of his face.
Another pulse of pain in her head, making it hard to focus her eyes. She felt his hands smooth away her hair from her face and then his lips on hers.
"I promise you, I will find you."
xxxxx
Ayla's eyes fluttered open, blinded by the fluorescent light in the room as her senses slowly returned to her. The light hissing sound from the oxygen as it filtered up her nose through the plastic canula and the beeping from the monitors. She turned her head, trying to escape the light and felt the skin on her temples pulling tight against the adhesive of the monitor wires. She peeled them off, wincing at the slight pain as it pulled on her hair. Once her eyes adjusted she blinked and slowly took in her environment.
She was back…
She was back in Seattle.
Her beautiful dream was over.
